There's a gap in the wall covered by ferns
There's a place where a child comes to learn
In the simulated setting sun
You can see some of the real one
From the sleek, weaving motion of a mind
Comes the wake of a slip and slow in time
And I heard the kestrels beating on the cage
And I saw the prisoners begging for a way
This portalistic history is madness to us now
Molecules are chaos, but they form a face, somehow
Weeping brings no justice on the day the crowds go up
If justice comes too late for some, can we still call it just?
If the bird does nothing, it will fall
It is madly weeping for us all
In the prophetic gaze of a child
Death is furious, life is wild